Not Porcelain
by Posey Lee
Summary: I’d been waiting for a wizard for years when he walked into the bar." DHr, True Blood style.


I'd been waiting for a wizard for years when he walked into the bar.

It had just been five years ago when they had made their existence known to the world – that and their own magical world, which had a lot of people skeptical but also itching to get in – and it had stirred up a fiery manic in some places. Some towns south of here had riots – mostly religious, but some not. But other things started to happen, too. Old children's books with witches and wizards began to sell like ice-cold lemonade on a hot summer's day. I figured maybe people thought they were manuals on how to deal with their kind, which is a downright foolish thing to think, but now everybody was thinking there was a little bit of truth in the stories their parents read to them when they were young, the ones they considered make-believe when they grew up to know better.

A list also came out to the public of all the famous people who had been witches or wizards. Shakespeare, for one, and a few other notable writers. Clark Gable, which had surprised my grandma for a second before she realized that she wasn't all that surprised at all. "It's no wonder he was so charming," she'd said.

I was working my usual shift at Griffin's when I noticed him. Being in such a small town, it was always noticeable when a fresh face came in, but the minute he walked in, I knew there was something about him. He was pale with bright blond hair – he almost looked like an angel, if it hadn't been for that look on his face, as if he'd smelt something rotten the minute he walked in. He was wearing dark clothes that made his pale skin stick out even brighter by contrast. It was obvious he wasn't from here; everybody around here at least had a nice golden tan on them due to the steady heat.

I heard Ginny whisper under her breath. "Who is that?" she cooed. "He's _new_."

All the girls had stopped to gawk at the stranger. "Usually I don't like pale men," said Anne, "but he's got it working for him."

"He's a wizard," I said.

They all turned to look at me, and then back at him. He had taken a seat in the far corner; which was ideal if you didn't want to be disturbed by the common bar crowd.

"How do you know?"

"I just do," I answered. It wasn't hard. Sure, it called for a little bit of assuming, but all the pieces seemed to fit.

"Maybe he's just lost," Ginny said, adjusting her apron. "I'll help him out," she said, flashing her straight white teeth like an oversexualized she-wolf and raising her hand to check on her hair, which was a strawberry red, fixed up into a loose bun.

Albie, the owner of the bar and also my best friend Harry's uncle, shared his input from behind us. He was significantly older than us but had a good heart and a good sense of humor, which made working here so much easier. "Hermione, take the table. Let's not give Ginny the chance to make a fool of herself tonight."

Ginny wasn't too happy about this, but didn't take it personally, and I made my way towards the pale stranger. I studied him as I came nearer. His face seemed flawless and calm, with eyes like metal, but his mouth seemed permanently twisted up in a sour expression. I tried not to judge people by first impressions, but his seemed so blindingly clear that he wasn't going to be very friendly.

"Hi," I said, smiling. Smiling got you tips. So did big breasts, but I hadn't been blessed with a genuinely large pair of those like Ginny. "My name's Hermione. Can I get you anything?"

His mouth twitched, and his expression turned into an all out glare, but said nothing.

"There's a menu right in front of you," I said continuing on. "We've got some beers—"

He abruptly stood up. And with one last glare, he brushed past me, swiftly heading towards the doors to leave. I stood there for a minute, blinking, shocked at what had just so blatantly happened with no explanation. When I looked behind me, he was gone, and I tucked my pad in my apron, feeling very much pissed off.

"Well, what the hell did you say to him?" Anne asked as she was getting drinks for her table. It wasn't a surprise she had been watching the whole time.

"Nothing!" I said, a bit defensively. "I said nothing. And he just—walked out." I tried to shake it off but it didn't work so well.

"Well, maybe he had the runs," said Anne, giving me a reassuring smile before getting back to work. "Don't worry, Hermione."

I wasn't one for ill feelings towards the magical kind like most of the people in this town, and I'm sure just as there are some very rotten people in this world the standard holds the same for the magical folk, but what I couldn't figure out is how a wizard who seemed to hate the human world ended up here. From what I'd heard from the news and read in the newspapers, there were some magic folk who detested our world and thought it was beneath them, and would never take a step on our unextraordinary, plain soil. And it seemed that our very first wizard had been one of them.

Still, I had a feeling at the bottom of my stomach. That pestering, bothersome feeling that something was wrong. I shook it off for the second time and continued taking and serving orders, but about fifteen minutes later I found myself telling Albie that I was just going to step out for a minute, and that I just needed to get a bit of air.

Now I knew perfectly well why he had walked out. It was a sort of indignant, conceited huff that he left in – the kind that rich, hoity-toity people threw when they were someplace they conceived as too far below their standards. I had seen his expensive clothes and that nice shiny ring he had, I'd even smelt his cologne – smelled French or something, strong and musky – and it all fit into the sketch I'd managed to draw up of him in my mind. I didn't know what I was looking for when I walked out of Albie's door underneath the neon sign, but I had a feeling it could resemble something like trouble.

Albie's was a hot spot in the town, partly because Albie had been a charmer back in the day as well as an entrepreneur, but – much like the town— its location wasn't something you could hit off the freeway. It had a dirt parking lot and Albie's trailer parked some ways next to the bar, and to the other side was a dark patch of woods.

Now some pretty foul things have happened in those woods. Albie had a few stories himself about some drunks going in there and never being seen again, but there were other stories of more malicious intent that he usually liked to tell to scare drunk out of towners.

In the distance I thought I heard a grunt. I froze, listening hard. Then I heard it again – a moan. And a few hushed voices. I looked around frantically, before reaching into my apron for my pepper spray. Grams had bought me my first pepper spray when I'd gotten my period when I was 13, and made a habit out of hiding them in my things, like my apron or my car dashboard or my purse.

I began to run towards the direction of the noises – towards the woods. My heart was thumping in my chest and I could feel each of the muscles in my body begin to tense up as I got closer, like tightening screws. After a few feet of walking, I could faintly see them. I hid behind a bush, watching them. There were two of them – two men, hovering over a body. They seemed to be searching his pockets. I leaned forward a little and a stray ray of the moonlight was caught in the unconscious – I shuddered to think dead – man's hair, it shone silver.

I locked my jaw. It was the rude asshole from the bar.

However, that didn't stop me from stepping out and holding the pepper spray rod straight ahead of me, looking at the men. They looked up, surprised.

"I should've known it was you two. The Ratt brothers," I hissed.

They laughed at me. "Jesus, Hermione. Put your pepper spray away and skip back to that little bar of yours," said the oldest, "and we'll be sure not to give you any trouble."

"You two really are the two most repulsive cretins living on this side of the soil, do you know that?" I said through my teeth. "Now get up and get out of here. Now."

They both looked at each other, clearly amused. "What are you going to do? Pepper spray us?"

As they both tossed their heads back to laugh, I pressed the nozzle. A white stream shot straight out – right into his eyes. He fell down, screaming, rubbing his eyes, while his brother got up and walked towards me threateningly. "Why, you—" he snarled.

He reached out for me but I dodged him quickly, and shot him straight in the eyes. He, too, fell to his knees and began to yell in agony.

My eyes were beginning to water as well. _Hot damn, Grams_, I thought to myself. _How powerful is this stuff? _

"Now get out of here. Both of you. Now!" I ordered.

"You bitch!" The one nearest to me lunged for my legs, and I fell, the pepper spray toppling out of my hands. The other brother began to crawl nearer towards me, still blind, but as I wrestled with the oldest I managed to kick him in the head and once in the stomach. He writhed in pain and I got out, getting back to my feet. My knee stung and I glanced down quickly to see that I had skinned it when I fell.

I told them again to get out, grabbing my pepper spray. Still blinking furiously and rubbing his eyes, he threw a few choice words my way before grabbing his disabled brother and dragging him out.

When I looked over to the body, he was conscious and trying to sit up. He had blood running down his face, no doubt having been punched in the noise, along with a pretty angry black eye.

I knelt close to him, trying to help him up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he snapped. I was a bit taken back by his accent. He was English.

Which explained the pale skin, I guess, but not the rude behavior.

I looked at him in shock. Then I scoffed, shaking my head, feeling my temper start to rise. "You've got to be shitting me." I got up and wiped the blood that was trickling down my knee. "I save your life, and you're not even willing to shed that superior race act just to say Thank You?"

"I didn't need your help," he said, looking quite furious. "I had it under control."

"Right, because you were doing so well playing dead." I scowled at him. "What, your magic doesn't work over here?"

"Like I said," he said, "I had it under control."

"Well then, remind me that next time I find you unconscious and bleeding to death in the middle of the woods after having beaten and mugged by the two MVP, juvenile delinquent quarterbacks of my old high school football team, all right?" I turned around and began to walk away, back to the bar, furious. "You're _welcome_, by the fucking way!"


End file.
